Down to the Deeps!
by justcallmesmitty
Summary: [Nursery Tales No. 4] Two young boys once climbed the stones on the hillside near the castle. One day, Francis finds three new ones who have taken their place. Written for Fanforum's Francis/Mary hiatus challenge prompt (No. 19). One-shot, Complete. Light and fun!


The hill falls away to the side of the castle, a large set of stones piled high in the middle. When Bash and I were younger, we played there whenever I could slip away. The stones acted as a fortress, the slopes as our battlefield. The hours I spent with him between lessons with my tutors became some of the most memorable moments of my life before Mary returned to us.

I stroll along the perimeter of the castle walls, reminiscing of days long past, looking for my young son and his uncles - barely older than James themselves - where the nurse told me they had gone. From my higher vantage point, I spy my brothers' tutor and guard standing under the only shade tree available on the hillside, keeping watch.

A shaggy blonde head appears over the top of the stones and my heart leaps into my throat. James has been told by both myself and by Mary that he is not allowed to climb on the stones. My feet carry me quickly to the base of the pile, hoping to arrange myself under him in the case he might fall. If he does, Mary will not forgive me for it. She already blames me for putting the idea in the boys' heads when Bash and I brought them here a few weeks ago.

At the bottom, however, I find my brother Charles - positioned just as I hope to be. He turns to acknowledge my arrival, panic quickly making its way into his eyes at being caught. As much as he adores my wife, I know that he fears her anger where James is concerned. He blanches, offering his place to me.

I step up next to the stones and reach up, tapping the little foot ready to continue in its climb.

"James?" I offer my sternest voice, but I lose a lot of my resolve when I see James's little rosy face peer back over his shoulder. He readily displays his delight in the climb, proud of himself for being able to clamber up the stones at only three years of age.

"Papa!" He exclaims with his characteristic chirp. I realize I will only fail in disciplining him on my own. He may look just like I did at that age, but he has Mary's wild, sweet spirit. The combination proves too much for me.

"James Henry de Valois, what do you think _maman_ will say when she finds out you have disobeyed her?" I ask as evenly as possible, hoping not to give my son any inkling that I, too, am proud of his climb. All of the children know that Mary is not one to be trifled with, but that they can get away with things more often where I am concerned. For that reason alone, I can't make him think he can get away with what he has just done.

James's blue eyes grow wide and I see the tears tremble in his small face before they begin to spill down his cheeks. I reach up my arms and lift him from the stone, bringing his small, crying body back down to the grass. I crouch next to him to be at his eye level.

He shakes his head as he clings to me, hiccups interrupting his words. "No tell _maman_. _Hic!_ No tell - _hic!_ - no tell _maman_!" His cries erupt so pitifully that I can't help the words that come out next.

"Will you promise not to climb the stones again, James?" I ask firmly, wondering whether I will ever be a competent father or just a soft one. His little head bobs up and down, trying to emphasize his commitment to the promise.

"Charles? Henry? Did you hear that? This will be our little secret, so long as it doesn't happen again." I watch my brothers sheepishly emerge from behind the stones, where they have been close enough to hear my words but still sufficiently hidden should I have tried to find them.

They both nod their assent, relief flooding their features. They might be my mother's sons, but their fear of Mary's wrath has proven itself to trump their Medici mischievousness. Much like me, when I think of it.

"We are agreed, then." I stand up, brushing a bit of dust off of my breeches. "Now," I pause, surveying the ragged group before me. "Is there another game you might play this afternoon?" I raise my eyebrows at Charles who, at twelve, should at least have one idea.

"Well," he begins, his eyes shift to meet mine. "We could play Tibault and Arabella, but we don't have a princess." He frowns, taking in their obvious limitations to acting out his favorite bedtime story.

"You don't?" I hear a merry voice chime in on the hillside to my left. Looking over, I spy Mary holding Anne - wiggling in her attempts to be out of her mother's arms and toddle about with the boys. Judging by her tone of voice, my wife somehow missed the exchange where I agreed not to mention how the boys had disobeyed her. She must be here to collect James for the afternoon.

She sets Anne down into the grass and I walk to her side, watching the boys as they eagerly select roles and pick up rough sticks to uses as swords. Charles, being the oldest, has first choice to play Tibault - the valiant young prince who fights a ferocious dragon on behalf of the beautiful Princess Arabella. Henry chooses second, deciding to play Tibault's brother Trent - and not surprising anyone - while James contentedly resolves to play their good friend, Jacques, to the best of his limited ability.

The tutor, a young German man named Frederick - long used to the rules of this game - dons his fiercest dragon face and snatches up Anne. He takes her quickly to the low ground beneath the stones, to the shade of the one tree on the hillside. Little girl shrieks and giggles fill the air as he tickles her sides and the boys fall to their task. They line up and begin to march forward step by step, whispering amongst themselves of their strategies to rescue Arabella.

Once they agree, they straighten and brace themselves for the assault, racing forward to where Frederick holds the princess captive. He snarls and snaps at their approach, to their wondrous delight.

"Down to the deeps!" comes Charles's battle cry, which his younger brother echoes.

"To da deeps!" chirps James, slowly running after his uncles.

"That story certainly has grown more complex in its telling, darling," my wife says softly, linking her arm with mine. "Once upon a time, it was just Tibault and Arabella." She laughs, the tinkling sound still capable of warming me through after the countless times I have heard it.

"Well, you certainly can't forget Trent or Jacques." I turn to her, pulling her near to lean against my chest. "And apparently neither can we forget Arabella's friends: Annette, Claire or Catherine."

"Of course not," she teases. "But Trent taught Tibault to climb stones, did he not?"

I stiffen and she pulls back to see what expression has crossed my face. Caught, I try to feign ignorance. "I have no idea what you speak of, m'lady."

She bursts into laughter, my attempts obviously failing. Her hand stretches up and rests next to my heart. "Don't worry, darling," she clucks ornerily and offers me a wink. "I'm just glad that he is unharmed." She pauses, delighted with herself for finding a way to make me squirm.

I press a kiss onto her forehead, mumbling, "If it helps, I don't think it will happen again. They were pretty contrite, all three of them."

We turn to watch the children as they thrust their imaginary swords into Frederick's side until he bends over to release Anne. The boys exult loudly in their victory. Charles carefully picks up his niece and carries her back to Mary, the younger boys remaining behind to wrestle with Frederick. The little girl, enthralled with her uncle, unashamedly and sloppily kisses his cheek. Mary takes her from him and chuckles as Charles wipes at his face with his sleeve.

"Is it all right if James stays a bit longer to play, Mary?" Charles asks, cautiously recognizing the imminent arrival of the little boy's afternoon nap.

My wife surprises me with her answer. "Of course, but just this once, Charles. I need to go back up to the castle, but I will send his nurse to fetch him when I arrive."

Charles nods excitedly and picks up his fallen branch-sword. "Thank you, Mary!" He bellows to the boys below him that there is a lion nearby. "We must find him! To the hunt!" he screams as he runs down the hillside.

"To the hunt!" comes Henry's echo. "To da hund!" I hear James babble, watching him fall in line.

Mary and I turn and make our way slowly up the hillside, a tired Anne beginning to fuss in her arms.

"I'm shocked, Mary Staurt! You never cease to surprise me!" I chide her, my hand settling behind her back at the steepest part of the incline. "You not only let our son climb the stones and get away with it - you also let Charles talk you into letting him play past his naptime!"

"I suppose I'm growing soft in my old age." She stops momentarily and nods to where the boys are currently tackling the guard, who has dropped to all fours and is presently swiping his hands at them as if they were giant paws. "Charles will soon be too old for such games," she says wistfully. "I want James to have as many memories as possible with your brothers."

"Those words carry wisdom in them, my love," I add. We reach the top of the hill and step onto the stone walkway. "But, yes - one might suppose you were going a bit soft. Not the best quality for a queen, don't you think?"

I wink at her and gather Anne from her. She kisses my temple lightly and laughs. "No," she agrees. "I guess not - but that can be _our_ little secret."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: It's another one! Busy, productive writing week for me. I'll be getting back to Keep and its epilogue son, but it has been particularly nice to enjoy this break of one-shots! This one is for the F/M thread's hiatus challenge prompt no. 19, which was "our little secret". Let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I just like to play. :)


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